#yes i did punch my wall i Got emotional.

[flyingbuddiies]

OHHHHH MYGOODNESS. Ijust punched my wall oh gofd

-looks around- cccan you. can you…. can you draw…. tacomic

i miss them. ALSO HI VEN

[elegyofthemoon]

well. i finished ch 17 of hi3. but at what cost

[artinvain]

Sevika's reaction to her girlfriend cumming untouched from eating her out AAAAA pulling out my hair bangin on the walls I'm so normal for her I have nothing else to say I'm just vibrating at unimaginable speeds

fuuuckk thank u - been watching the bear so in keeping with that — we have chef!sevika

angst, fluff, smut, degradation, dom!sevika, oral (sevika receiving) after care, drugs (weed).

being a chef at one of piltover’s five star restaurants could kill sevika. sure she was strong physically, and she could hide her pain, but in the kitchen she was vulnerable. in the kitchen she was young again, clinging to her mother’s legs as she baked this thing or the other.

so when the head chef had told her that she had disappointed him with her fucking choux? to say she was devastated was an understatement. how did she fuck up a pastry she’s been making since she started culinary school almost a decade ago.

he went in on her, about her ethic — “you gave yourself too much to do again, you do not delegate and that does not work in our kitchen’s brigade.”

jesus christ he was worse than usual today. she tried to focus on folding in her pastry, thinking about; the eggs she had going low over vinegar, the last meal review — there were bones in a bake and she had shit on jinx for overlooking something so simple. and yet here she was, fucking up a choux. she could feel bile in her throat.

“Yes, chef,” sevika replied, restarting her batter and taking a deep breath,

“and when was the last time you did quick checks?”

“twenty three minutes go, chef,”

“for this event? for brunch sevika are you incompetent now?” he asks slamming his hand down on the hard metal of her island, “do you not know how quickly breakfast foods go? you need checks every ten chef,”

“yes, chef,”

“but here you are doing a choux a second time, something so simple you could do it asleep,”

“sorry chef,” sevika says, she couldn’t explain herself even if she wanted to. there was no conversation with silco — he talks and sevika listens, learns and adapts.

“we’re wasting piltover resources on undercity scum for charity we do not pay for fucking incompetence,” silco says so loudly the kitchen goes quiet for a moment. sevika can’t hear or see anything anymore. can’t hear silco asking her how she got into this industry, why she thought she was good enough. told her that she would never be good enough.

“are you fucking mute?” silco asks.

“no chef,” sevika says void of emotion.

“they chose you, despite my protestations. yes you are creative - but you have no work ethic” chef silco rounds her station,

“I’ll do better chef,” sevika says starting to pipe her choux, these were perfect.

“and here you are, disappointing me, as expected. but what do I know, right?”

there are people glancing nervously, they liked sevika, they were a family when silco wasn’t around and spent months trying to convince her that they loved her, regardless of where she came from which was “pretty fucking cool” according to them. they had finally started to get her to believe that she wasn’t a good chef she was great, one of the best — all that work undone in a moment.

sevika spent hours after her shift fucking up the punching bag at the gym, by the time she’s home — she’d cried for over an hour in the gym shower and now she was kind of just pissed. she didn’t want to feel small or afraid. she was a good chef — inside she knew that. she made a mistake and she couldn’t afford any inconsistency, it gave her heart palpitations. she wanted to be respected, revered, praised and when she enters your shared home she knows you’ll give yourself over to her in that way, you always do.

when she crawls into your bed, you put down your book and start to scratch through her damp hair and kiss her forehead, you can tell from the look on her face. “bad day?” you ask gently as she pulls you over her lap to straddle her lap. she rubs her hands over your thighs, grunting when you roll your hips and she smacks your ass. you’re stunning, sitting above her in her sweater, it’s falling off your shoulder and she feels your neck is too clean so she sits up to lick and kiss and suck on your neck so she can hear your pretty moans.

“promise, I’ll make it better,” you yelp and your breath hitches when she smacks your ass. you pull her face toward hers and kiss her feverently, licking into her mouth and moaning as she sucks on your tongue.

she pants into your mouth, her arms around her, guiding you to grind down on her. kisses you, her lips tasting and biting and sucking yours.

“get on your knees for me baby,” sevika pants, watching you kneel between her legs, moaning when you arch your back. you bend down so you’re nuzzling her mound, your ass on display for her. and she’s got a wet spot on her boxers, “yeah,” sev moans — “boxers off” she pants as you kiss her through her underwear, instead - teasing sucking and moaning around her clit.

“get them off, now sweetpea or you won’t cum for a week,” sevika nods “good girl,” when you scramble your remove her underwear and she whimpers when you face her cunt, warm and leaking as your dip your fingers through her lips, the soft hair of her mound against your cheek.

“please,” you gasp out, near burying your face between her legs but tittering on the edge - waiting for permission.

“I don’t know if you deserve it,” she tuts, a hand in your hair, tugging gently and keeping your head away from her pussy — all she wants it so suffocate you with her cunt but god did she love to hear you beg. “tell me you want me, beg to eat me out,”

“want to make you feel good sevika, please I need it, makes me feel good tasting you,”

“fuck you’re pathetic, so needy for my cunt aren’t you,”

you moans and kiss and suck her inner thighs,

“need to see you cum. please you take such good care of me — of everything, want you to feel good,” you whimper as sevika whispers out praise, “what a pretty slut I have — so needy just to get me off.”

sevika guides your face towards her cunt and — “come on be a good, dumb little fuck toy and eat my pussy baby,” you whine, your hips sharply meeting the bed, your body going weak as you taste her. her soft, wet pussy lips rubbing on your cheeks as you lick into her, going to suck on her clit after running your tongue up and down her slit, tasting her sweet and tart cunt.

“god, yeah good — jus like that,” she’s already on edge, so pent up, her back is tightening when you moan around her, she looks down and sees that you’re rutting against the bed, grinding on the sheets between your thighs as you eat her. “fuck, so riled up huh? you need this as much as I do - don’t you honey? yeah, christ just like that,” she groans when you dip your tongue into her leaking hole.

“fuck you’re such a slut, getting off on making me feel good — so needy for me,” she moans, cupping the back of your head and holding you to her as you start to suck and roll your tongue against the underside of her clit. “fuck lemme - let me fuck y-your face just a little baby,” she huffs “stick your tongue out for me, wanna use your mouth just a little,” sevika moans loudly as you whimper around her clit and she starts to buck her hips against your face.

sevika groans, her hips near lifting off the bed as she grips your head and guides your mouth, bobbing your head as you suck on her clit, moaning at the sounds of you slurping at her, whimpering against her.

“so good baby,” sevika moans “so good letting me use you like this, my perfect girl,” she whimpers you shift up a little bit, her thighs resting on your shoulders. you twitch, your thighs twisting together as you salivate on her pussy, pulling her close the feeling of the soft sheets on your clit, your lacy panties rubbing your swollen nub. your head is dizzy, her taste leaking into your mouth you swallow gratefully and moan, your hips twitching.

“oh my god, loot at you, actually fucking getting off, shit baby, you’re the prettiest slut I’m so lucky to have you,” she moans and you whine your nails biting into her thighs, you look up at sevika meeting her hooded eyes, “I love you baby,” she moans and your eyes roll back in your head as you cum.

seeing you cum all from eating her out, the feeling your you licking and sucking her cunt, your tongue rolling against her as she controls your movements, controls your pleasure. fuck, she’s cumming — holding your head in place she’s riding your face, hot white pleasure warming her body.

“f-fingers, fingers!” she whines when you sink two fingers into her and curl until you’re rubbing the perfect spot, fucking into her until she’s squirting, wetting your face and leaking down onto the sheets, you’re moaning and sucking at her clit and drinking all her pussy offers until she’s pushing your head away from oversensitivity, moaning when you resist her and keep fucking your fingers into her, sucking gently on her clit.

“fucking brat, shit, mm’gonna — keep -“ she’s fucking drunk on pleasure, her hands solely resting on your head as you fuck her into another orgasm.

when she comes down and you let off her clit, gently slipping your fingers from her and crawling up to have her bury her head between your tits and brush her hair away from her face.

“fuck thank you,” she sighs, pulling you in close and wrapping her arms around you, “I love taking care of you vika,” you say, kissing her face with sticky lips and then kissing her mouth.

“need to clean you up, maybe we take a bath and you can tell me about today?” you ask gently and sevika nods, you run the bath and fetch her when the water is hot and soapy. she can feel her muscles relax, smell the lavender and eucalyptus essential oils and,

“did you put the cbd oils in here?” she asks and you slide in, getting between her thighs - your legs on either side of her hips.

“yes, and I brought a joint,” you say as if it’s obvious, she smiles and kisses you, and puffs on it,

“I fucking hate silco,” she groans and fills to air around you with her exhale,

“I’m gonna kill him,” you say, “he terrorises you,”

“today i fucked up a choux and he called me undercity scum,” she sighs, she can only laugh about it now, but you’re enraged.

“what the fuck?” you say, trying to stand but sevika tugs you down by your arm, “no, I’m calling the resturant he can’t talk to you like that,” you say, “you’re not scum, you’re the best person I know,” you say sternly and sevika smiles at your protective nature.

“I know, because you remind me every day,” she pulls you closer and stuff the joint head in your mouth, “there, pacify yourself, I’m fine,” she grunts and kisses your cheek.

🤲🏼🏷️ @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul @ariariarr

[sc0tters]

Repeated Promises | Trevor Zegras

summary: Trevor sees you out with Alex and that unleashes some big emotions in him that he’s dying to tell you about.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, mature scenes, oral (fem receiving!)

word count: 1.78k

authors note: this didn’t make super smut Thursday because I didn’t originally plan on making this smutty but then it just happened. And Trevor’s already got his piece for this Thursday planned out. Been eating for this part so I’m glad I’ve finally gotten it written.

pt1

He thought you two were good.

Life was good, you and Trevor were good, everything was good. You seemed to be okay with the idea of just being friends with a little bit more. Trevor actually found himself growing fond of you, the late night cuddles, the shared laughs over dinner as you two watched a movie.

Which is why he was so surprised when Twitter seemed to be having a meltdown over you being caught in downtown LA in Alex’s hoodie whilst he had his arm around you.

It made Trevor feel sick to his stomach, he wasn’t naturally jealous but the image of you looking up at Alex with a toothy grin had him wanting to go feral. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt as much if you also hadn’t blown off you plans you had with the Ducks player that evening.

You were totally unaware of the fact that you were taking up all of the space in Trevor’s mind as you lay on your couch mindlessly scrolling through your phone.

A smile formed on your lips as you came across a Snapchat highlight that Cole had sent you. Trevor was stood between your legs as you fed him a piece of mango.

Those moments were things you loved, they were the true time when Trevor fooled you into thinking that he could have loved you. Especially since he came back from the lake house, the way his hands would wrap around your waist before he’d pick you up and throw you onto your bed.

It was playful and romantic as he would kiss the back of your neck when you were getting ready in the bathroom. Sure it felt like a punch to the gut as each time he’d leave your apartment you were reminded by the fact that he wasn’t ever really yours, not truly.

You craved the comfort that would have come from him being yours because as much as you tried to pull away by getting closer with Alex, nothing really did ever work well enough.

So when there was a knock at your door it pulled you away from rethinking about those memories “hey-” you were surprised to see Trevor, whenever he came over you two had always planned it.

He looked angry as he locked eyes with you “where is he?” Trevor asked as his eyes cringed at the sight of you still in Alex’s hoodie.

It wasn’t farfetched for you to still be in it as your apartment was always freezing “who?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you didn’t know who he was talking about.

You would have looked beautiful if that hoodie was different because you were not wearing shorts under it and that was soon going to become clear “Alex, y/n who else would I be talking about?” He spoke in a duh tone as he pushed past you and into your apartment.

There wasn’t a moment that you ever thought that Trevor was jealous. It wasn’t something you thought he was capable of feeling “I hung out with him,” you announced with a scoff “so what?” It reminded you of the time back at the lake house when you had tried to avoid him.

All of your friends were upset that their effort to help you leave him had failed “you think this is some kind of joke or something?” The hockey player was ready to punch a wall as he picture Alex’s face there instead.

You crossed your arms as you followed him to your kitchen “why are you so upset that I hung out with my friend?” You didn’t appreciate the boy coming in and calling you the bad guy “your friend?” Trevor couldn’t believe the words that feel from your lips as he walked over to you.

Your body was pressed up against your counter as your breathing slowed “you don’t look at him like he’s just a fucking friend,” the boy spat as his hand pushed up your leg when he was so upset that he didn’t even notice your lack of shorts.

Alarm bells rang through your head but you couldn’t help it when you felt your panties turn wet as the thoughts pooled in them “he is,” you mumbled as you sat on the counter.

Trevor hooked his fingers under your jaw “you look at him like you look at me.” He pointed out as he began placing kisses on your chin going down your jaw.

Before you knew it your fingers locked in his hair “you jealous?” Your voice came out in a groan as you tried to shut your thighs to conceal the feelings that went through your brain but you couldn’t because he was stood between you.

It was rough trying to keep your calm “not jealous,” he shook his head “not when I can give you the world.” He explained as he pulled away to face you.

The hockey player didn’t know what to think about as all he wanted to do was kiss you “got you in my mind twenty four seven,” the boy confessed as his fingers brushed over your lower lip.

Your eyes went wide “no you don’t,”you shook your head as you tried to push his chest away but he remained stood where he was “I’m crazy about you baby.” Trevor pointed out as he really didn’t know where all of this was coming from.

Throughout his whole life he had never quite like he did in that moment “really?” You let out a gasp as you cocked your head.

His hands continued to move up your legs “on fuck baby,” he groaned as his fingers met the lacy fabric of your underwear.

You turned pink as he lifted up your hoodie to confirm what he thought “you knew I’d be here didn’t you?” Trevor asked as he could see the wet patch on your panties “god you’re so wet,” he mumbled as he placed kissed down your neck.

It was like your voice disappeared as the boy hooked his fingers into your panties “want to show you just how much I care about you,” the devilish smile spread on Trevor’s face as he watched your red thong hit the floor.

Before you could let him do that though you placed your hands on either side of his face “I’m crazy about you.” You confessed causing the boy to waste no time as he kissed you.

There wasn’t as much lust in this one as there usually is and he couldn’t help but grow frustrated when you didn’t let his tongue in your mouth.

But with Trevor being Trevor he had a plan so instead he let his fingers dance over your clit yet you moaned when he thrusted into your core.

That gave him the chance to let his tongue move inside of you “such pretty sounds,” Trevor cooed as he let out a grunt against your ear.

You nodded as you clenched around his fingers “quicker,” you begged as you began to grind against his fingers “my needy little girl.” The boy wanted to smirk but as his pants grew tight he could no longer handle it.

Trevor pulled his fingers out of you whimpered “don’t worry doll,” he chuckled as he kissed your temple “won’t let you go just yet,” the boy mumbled as his eyes never left yours when he dropped to his knees “please T.” You begged as you watched him kiss up your thighs.

The boys smirk could be felt as it radiated off of your thighs “you know if you don’t hurry up I might just go find-” you were cut off as his tongue licked a long strip up your slit.

His head was quickly locked into place as your thighs wrapped around his head making sure he truly couldn’t leave you

It was hot as you let out a long moan “just like that,” your head hit the cupboard behind you as the boy refused to stop sucking on your clit. His tongue pleasured you in ways that you knew you never could, no matter how hard you tried Trevor truly did ruin you for all other men.

Not even phone sex helped you, in order to come it had to be his tongue, his fingers, his dick was a pick part of that too. But in general you used needed Trevor.

Your thoughts had gotten so clouded that you didn’t even notice that his tongue was currently lapping up your wetness “fuck delight,” your hand gripped at his brunette locks as you let your hips grind against him.

Trevor let his eyes trail up as you pulled Alex’s hoodie off of your body letting it fling somewhere else in your kitchen. His hand moved up to your bra as he let out a grunt watching you quickly unclip your bra “my pretty little girl,” the hockey player cooed as his thumb rubbed over your nipple “all ready to get fucked out,” he groaned as he watched you nod.

His tongue went back to fucking your core as he continued to tease your stiff peaks “all for you,” you confessed as your body shuddered when you felt his nose hit your clit “keep doing just that please,” you begged as your hand locked over his.

You gasped when he lay his tongue flat on your clit before he let himself move back into your core, a motion that he continued to repeat a few more times “I’m gonna cum fuck!” Your legs began to shake as his tongue refused to leave your core.

The orgasm hit you like a truck as your eyes screwed shut “enough T-” you got the sentence out as you unlocked your legs from around his head.

Trevor smiled as he got up from the floor “always tasting so good,” your release caused his chin to glisten.

His fingers ran over your thighs as he pulled you into a kiss wanting you to taste yourself on his tongue “never gonna get tired of that,” the first his he’d give you after you came always made you melt into his touch.

Somehow though it seemed like there was something on his mind “what’s up?” You asked like he wasn’t just eating you out minutes ago.

The boy stood between your legs as his arms rested on either side of you “wanna take you out on a real date.” He blurted out taking you by surprise.

Over the last year you always thought you would be the one to ask him out. A giggle left your lips “really?” You weren’t letting your surprise stay hidden.

“Promised you the fucking world baby.”

[crusty-chronicles]

Airheaded S/O Headcannons #10: Kurapika (HxH)

He is completely dumbfounded by you

Like how did you end up working for the Nostrade family?

How did you even manage to become a hunter?

You have to be faking, right?

I mean nobody just loses Neon's new diamond earrings.

Nobody just trips and takes a whole countertop with them. (Marble countertop if he may add)

Nobody just forgets they can use nen?

"What's your ability?"

"Sometimes if I squint real hard, I can see in the dark."

"Your nen ability????"

"Oh! Don't remember!" 😃

Finds out you are in fact not faking

It kinda reminds him of Leorio

But at least Leorio could read and doesn't have the attention span of a goldfish.

Sometimes he swears he can hear your single braincell rattle around in your head when someone's shaking you in their frustration.

It worries him why you were hired to be a bodyguard

Mainly because the Nostrades had been very thorough selecting candidates.

And you were here before his team got selected.

So Kurapika has a hunch.

He'll make Melody ask you questions and check your heartbeat for lies.

And every ridiculous answer you gave was true

Which irritated him a little

He didn't want a braindead idiot to get in the way of his goal

Buuuuut his opinion of you changes for the better after his fight with Uvogin

He came back feeling defeated, even though he won

The blood on his hands was icky and he had gotten no information out of the ordeal.

The only thing he left with was an even worse hatred for the Phantom Troupe.

The very same people who didn't remember they had massacred an entire clan.

He arrived at the hotel when mostly everyone had left.

Everyone except you and Melody.

He eyes were still that scarlet color, not bothering to hide them.

Then he felt arms wrap around him and went to lash out, wanting anything but to be touched right now.

Except his movements stopped completely

And he became completely calm and relaxed.

"Your eyes are really pretty like this, but I don't like you mad. Just calm down a little, okay?" It was you.

And why had you said that to someone you barely knew?

Why were you trying to comfort him?

And why had he let you?

He realized this was your ability: controlling emotions. Or at least altering them.

It was...nice

He hadn't been hugged in a while.

And yours was warm.

The scarlet at last fading away.

"Thank you for that... I appreciate it."

From then on he's seeking you out.

With melody, he has to be cautious with what he says.

He doesn't want to say anything that would frighten her or complicate things for himself.

But if he's talking with you, he could say just about anything and you'd listen.

You would have no clue what he was talking about, but you would be there.

And it was like talking to a wall

Except the wall brought temporary joy into his very dark and devoid world.

A bright light that couldn't be darkened no matter what thanks to your naivety.

And maybe it's endearing when you trip on air in public and say-

"I'm stumbling over my success."

Maybe it makes him smile when you ask about his nen chains and narrow it down to 'a portable prison.'

Maybe he does want you to fill the silence he's used to with ramblings about 'why vases are too fragile these days.'

He may like you, but his motive comes first.

His clan's eyes will always come first

However, he can't stop himself from indulging with what might be a happy future with you.

Especially after seeing you cave someone's skull in with one punch during a task from the Nostrade family.

He's so relieved that yes, you had great physical strength and a useful ability.

It means he'll let you follow him to fulfill his vengeance against the Spiders

He only babies you when it's something serious.

Like if you're about to chop your finger off while cooking.

He's running into the kitchen and taking the knife from you.

"Y/n, what do you have?"

"A knife 😃😃😃"

"NO!"

Or if you're about to get hit by a car because you saw something cool across the street.

He's using his chains to pull you back, and then proceeds to lecture you for the next ten minutes.

But anything else?

No. You can figure it out.

If you're lost, you'll find him eventually.

If you swapped out the pepper and salt, he's laughing, but hopes you learned your lesson.

You brought the wrong item at an auction?

Good luck explaining that to Neon and her father

Doesn't buy you fancy things because he knows you don't care about stuff like that.

Instead, he'll leave you little notes where he knows you'll find them.

He tried to take you to a nice restaurant for dinner claiming it was to 'Keep up the Nostrade's Appearances'.

It was just him being a little embarrassed to admit it was a date.

And you know what happened?

You two got kicked out because you kept breaking the fancy silverware and plates.

But it did make him laugh to see you try to hide the evidence under the table cloth

Calls you: my love, dearest, sunny, little clown, baby (derogatory), and if he's feeling playful-mighty warrior.

He has trouble communicating, so having a stable relationship is difficult.

But he tries, even if he's not there all that much.

Won't feel jealous, but instead a little insecure that you would get bored and leave.

Even if he knows you're a fool with a heart of gold and would never do that

It's just the part of his brain that has to consider every possible outcome.

But if the way your eyes light up every time you see him, even if it's just been five minutes, is anything to go by....

Then he has absolutely nothing to worry about.

Kurapika just hopes his pursuit of his clan's eyes don't scare you away or dim the light you bring with you.

UP NEXT: Monkey D Luffy

MASTERLIST

An: Sorry it took longer than usual, the fucking heat is draining and it makes me lazy 🫠

[evajzcks]

shattering control ── tom riddle x reader

summary: tom gets in a fight for you for the first time and you help him clean his wounds

warnings: none? grumpy tom x sunshine reader

word count: idk but it is short

everything happened so fast. one moment, he was standing in the hallway, and the next, he was throwing punches at the guy who was trying to get your attention.

tom wasn’t an impulsive man. he never acted on impulse. everything he did was calculated, controlled, and with the intention of achieving something. but the moment he saw the discomfort on your face and the way the ravenclaw was grabbing your arm, he lost it.

“hey, I’m trying to talk to you,” you said when you noticed tom wasn’t listening to you.

“i’m listening,” tom muttered, still lost in his thoughts.

his hands were still shaking from adrenaline. when he closed his eyes, he could still see the red that blinded him the moment he lost control.

“you’re clearly not. otherwise, you would’ve sat on the bed already,” you said, rolling your eyes. “you’re just standing there like a creep.”

after tom finally came back to his senses, you brought him to your room and tried to clean his knuckles. but he just stood there, staring at his bloodied hands.

your relationship with tom wasn’t a secret to anyone. most of the time, the two of you were together after being paired up in defense against the dark arts class. it all started with silent study sessions in the library, both of you enjoying the other’s presence. then came lingering looks, followed by little touches here and there.

while you were energetic, bright, and talkative, tom was calm, controlled, and dark. yet somehow, your contrasting personalities seemed to complement each other perfectly.

“i was just thinking,” tom finally said after a moment, sitting on your bed and watching as you grabbed what looked like a first-aid kit.

“care to share your thoughts?” you asked, softly taking his hands and beginning to clean his wounds with care.

“i don’t know what happened to me,” he admitted quietly. the way you were tending to his hands, the fight, the blur in his head—it all felt too overwhelming.

tom hadn’t been raised with a family, nor had he ever cared about anyone but himself. that was, until you came into his life. now, the rage that consumed him when he saw the guy with you felt like it was tearing down the control he’d spent years mastering, along with the walls he’d built around his emotions.

“why don’t you use magic?” tom asked, watching you with a soft but puzzled expression. “it’s more efficient.”

“but it’s less caring,” you replied, kissing his hands gently. “and clearly, you feel something very strong for me, considering you just got into your first fight over a girl and almost killed a classmate.”

“if i acted with control, i probably would’ve done worse,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he noticed the smile tugging at your lips.

“oh yes, you would’ve hexed him!”

“worse…” he murmured, disgusted with his actions. if he’d waited, he might have ended up tossing a body into the black lake by now.

“he was bothering me, but you know you can’t just kill everyone, right?” you teased, starting to clean the small bruise on his lip. “i’ll kiss it better.”

“you’re mine, and people should know that,” tom said, pretending to be annoyed by the care you were giving him. “you’ve grown too soft.”

“and you’re grumpy,” you replied, placing a soft kiss on his lips and smiling slightly. “also, you can’t say I’m yours when you won’t even let me call you boyfriend.”

“don’t play with that, Y/N,” he said, gripping your hips firmly as he pulled you into his lap, his earlier worries long forgotten. “that term is too mundane. you know we’re past that.”

a/n: this is my first fanfic here on tumblr so let me know if you liked!!!!!!!! i might do a part two but this time longer 😞

[wheelie-sick]

Hi! I’m just curious why you’re anti-psychiatry and the reasoning behind it if you’re comfortable sharing? I want to take care to specifically learn the reasoning so I can educate myself upon them, I’ve wanted to be a psychiatrist since I was a kid and so I’m wary of making any mistakes in my profession that could damage others or perpetuate harm. Thank you so much for your time. /genq

okay, first of all I'd recommend reading my post here which talks about why there are no good psychiatrists and this post here about how some people being helped by the system does not make the system good. they're long but the first is pretty foundational to my beliefs on psychiatry and the second covers the most common rebuttal I hear for antipsychiatry.

putting the rest of this under a cut because it's really fucking long because I wanted to provide some context to my beliefs and there's a lot of context

my foundational reasoning for being antipsychiatry comes from listening to other's experiences. I did not have a traumatic experience with psychiatry directly. I'm not going to repeat other's traumatic experiences but if you look through the antipsychiatry tags you can definitely find some of the repulsive things the psychiatric industry has done. my belief in antipsychiatry also comes from my experiences with therapy.

I have been cycled through many therapists who dropped me for being "too complicated" for them. my second most recent therapist I dropped after constant abuse from him.

-> TW for therapeutic abuse until "why I'm antipsychiatry" <-

my issues with my old therapist began when I first started seeing him. I was being actively abused at home and every time I tried to talk about the physical and emotional violence I was experiencing at home from my former father he would shut me down and tell me it was not abuse.

-> TW for descriptions of physical abuse for the next paragraph <-

I told him about the attempts to shove me down stairs. the times I was dragged around. the times I was thrown into the couch. the times I had my face slammed into a wall. the restraint. the hitting. the punching. the grabbing. I told him in detail. my mom has since admitted that I was abused by my former father.

He did not think it was abuse. he had an obligation to report this to CPS and he never did. he told me it was not abuse the minute I brought it up, before I ever even tried to use the word abuse. I could never talk about the violence I was experiencing because I would get shut down every time and eventually I gave up.

-> TW for emotional abuse for the next 2 paragraphs <-

several years later my former father disowned me. (that's why I call him my former father) he told me that he did not see me as his child anymore, that he hated me. he said some other rather disgusting things about me, most of which I will not repeat, but one sticks out. he told me mom that she should handle my being trans as if she was dealing with a dog; when it (and yes, he used the word it) misbehaves you should ignore it. this all happened in a single conversation.

in my next therapy session I was distraught. I didn't like my former father but it never feels good to be disowned. I was trying to talk to my therapist about this and I said "he hates me" my therapist doubted me and asked me "did he say he hates you or are you just perceiving he hates you" trying to, dare I say, gaslight me into thinking this was all my perception. he did this to me frequently when I brought up the emotional abuse I was experiencing. I said "yes, yes he did say that" and things got really quiet because for once he couldn't tell me it was all in my head. in that moment I lost all faith in him because I realized he was wrong. that he was manipulating me into believing I was the problem. that all these conflicts were my fault. but they were never my fault.

-> TW for mentions of self harm for the next 2 paragraphs <-

the final nail in the coffin came about 2 years later when I finally decided to open up about my self harm. I had relapsed on my self harm about 8 months prior, usually it was just a one off but this time it had spiraled out of control into the beginnings of an addiction. I wanted to stop, so I decided to open up to my therapist about it. he got angry at me. I was scared, and vulnerable, and he was angry. he asked me why I didn't tell him sooner, I said I was scared of hospitalization. a week later he threatened to hospitalize me multiple times after promising he wouldn't.

what actually made me drop him was 3 weeks later. I was tired of talking about self harm and I was feeling the same if it all. he asked me about it and I said I don't want to talk about it. he pressed mex accused me of avoiding therapy, threatened to hospitalize me if I didn't spit out adequate details. when I said I hadn't even self harmed that much he accused me of lying to him to avoid therapy. he crossed many boundaries that day and then pressured me into agreeing to fill out a form every week detailing all the information about my self harm down to how many cuts I made. that was my final straw. I was done.

why I'm antipsychiatry:

after that I started reflecting and realizing the whole thing was fucked up. from the starting point in 4th grade when I saw my first therapist to the ending point where I saw my second to last therapist (I had a therapist after the nightmare therapist, her name was Sara she was Deaf and amazing but largely unhelpful) the system was designed to produce bad therapists. the nightmare therapist was not the only bad experience I had with therapists, just the worst. they all liked to abuse their power over me, they all liked to deny my experiences and gaslight me into believing all my problems were my own perception rather than a real outside factor. this wasn't one bad therapist is was one bad system.

and I'm done. I'm so done. therapy has never helped me but it has hurt me and I don't think I can find a good therapist because the whole apple tree is rotting from the inside. I'm sticking with my psychiatrist because he has done minimal harm to me but my experience with therapy has thoroughly cemented that abuse isn't an exception it's the standard and therapists who aren't abusing their clients are breaking the rules. my experience is the norm and it shouldn't be but you can't reform a rotting tree you have to plant a new one.

that's what antipsychiatry also seeks to do. it's cutting down the apple tree but it's also planting a new, different fruit tree. a tree that respects autonomy of patients, that acknowledges patients' realities, that seeks to support not control and manipulate.

if you want to help people with their mental health I urge you to look into the alternatives to the psychiatric system and consider working there. the tree will turn you into a bad apple too because the tree is rotted but there's a new tree growing and you can find other ways to support people. admittedly I'm not the most familiar with alternatives to psychiatry but I know they do exist and they're becoming more common as people realize the damage the psychiatric system is doing.

sorry this was kinda a trauma dump but my antipsych beliefs largely stem from trauma so I wanted to share that context

[dearest-kibble]

Atlas

A part one (the second is in the works and I'm going insane because i have a lotta ideas) Read on A03 here!

Tw: Stalking, (kind of?) suggestive content, general yandere-ness. It is slow to get to but very much there. Kinda goes from 1-100. Miguel is so sane he swears. I'm back to my dialogue loving ways. (If you think I've forgotten any tags please let me know!)

“Are — Are you okay?” There is a man bleeding in the alley behind your apartment. Profusely might you add. He doesn’t speak, just grunts at you and you notice — Spider-man. That’s Spider-man. He’s bleeding out in the alley. Without a single other thought you make your way towards him and rid yourself of your jacket. Spiderman cocks his head at you. “It’s not much. I know-” You tie it as tightly as you can around the wound. “But until I can get something better-” He shakes his head. “No?” He coughs. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.” He painfully rasps and starts to push himself off the damp pavement. Immediately your hands are outstretched and willing to help support. A large shaky hand takes them and you try your best to pull him gently from the ground.

He doesn’t offer any thanks as he staggers out of the alleyway, just a small nod but you feel compelled - “Thank you Spider-Man.” You think he turns at that.

———————————-

“I’m sorry I’m late!”

“What, had a good night?” You don't have to look to see Phil's stupid smug face.

“Interesting night maybe.” You were still tired, worried and a little high on meeting Spider-man.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” You love your co-worker, he's nice. Really truly he is. But what you wouldn't do to give him a good punch.

“I had an interesting night, take it as you will.” No way in hell you're ever telling him about Spider-Man.

“So you totally fu-” You've never been more relieved for a potential rush.

“Hello! We’ve got a menu on the wall above the counter whenever you’re ready to order just let one of us up here know!” You turn around to smile at your customer only to realize you have to look up. And up and up, until you finally meet his gaze. His eyes meet yours and he quickly turns his gaze up towards the menu.

“Just let us know whenever you’re ready to order.” Your co-worker tacks on. He stands with posture that cannot be comfortable, not speaking a word. He’s the only customer and both you and your coworker share a glance. He has this undeniably defeated look in his eye, but he still stands tall - as if he’s forced to.

“-ato.” He finally mumbles

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t quite hear that.” You give him a smile as best you can and wait while he just… stands there,

“I said macchiato.” It is then that he stares you down. You can see so much so clearly. His piercing brown eyes, you’d thought they were defeated before but maybe that was just the bags around them. Now that he’s looking at you he seems… much less sad. Though placing that emotion is not something you’re up to the challenge of. They seem to lighten a little as he asks, “Are you going to ring me up?” He speaks flatly, not a single hint of inflection and his teeth seem to glint in the light strangely. Briefly you wonder if maybe it’s some sort of body modification that he got, you don’t see a terrible amount of fangs. He clears his throat and suddenly you realize you’ve just been standing there.

“Oh gosh - yes yes. Let me just-” You move to the POS “Right over here!” You chirp. “One final question, do you mean a traditional macchiato? Or one of the Stellarbucks ones?” He huffs a small chuckle from his nose and his lips twitch upwards, not quite into a smile but a ghost of one.

“Those aren’t macchiatos. Traditional.” You should've figured, he seems like a straight espresso, black coffee kinda guy.

“Alright we’ll bring it out when it’s ready.” He goes to sit in the corner, away from any windows and from a bag pulls a computer.

“Did he tip?” A whisper as your co-worker grabs one of the macchiato cups from atop the espresso machine.

“Don’t think so.” You whisper back.

“Asshole.” You can’t help but giggle a little.

“Oh c'mon, he doesn’t seem completely awful, He just seems a little awkward is all.”

“You’re just saying that cause you think he’s hot.”

“Where do you get your ideas? First it’s my ‘fun night’ and then it’s this.”

“And where do you find the time to flirt so much?” Phil smirks.

“I absolutely was not flirting.” You make sure to say it with authority.

“I mean he is hot.” Phil says this rather loudly, and gives you the shittiest grin to ever eat. “You seemed to be staring at him.”

“Eye contact is common courtesy!!” You hiss.

“And his macchiato is done and I’m not dealing with him, go get him, lovebird.” You roll your eyes and take a doily and the cup. You make it quickly to his seat where he is comically large compared to the table and chair. He’s spilling over the edges of his seat and his arms are so large they take up what little space his computer doesn’t.

“Alright, I’ve got your traditional macchiato, let me just…” You look for a spot to place it, and find nothing with everything on his table. “I don’t want to throw a wrench in your work. Where would you like for me to place it?”

“Here is fine.” He shifts awkwardly, shoving his arm to his side so you have space. He watches you place the doily first and as you gently set down his cup. Before you can turn and tell him to “enjoy!” he exhales and mumbles softly, “You’re good at your job. No one knows what a real macchiato is these days.”

“Thank you.” You say politely. “We serve both, enjoy!”

“Can I ask your name?” You turn, just to see his eyes on you, a little softer, just as sunken and he’s got that same smile, almost knowing. He takes a sip of his coffee. “You don’t need to answer.” His mouth opens again as if he’s about to speak and you see it again, his elongated canines scraping against the edge of his cup when he downs his macchiato. He gulps it down quickly and takes your wrist, placing the cup in your palm and curls your fingers around it. Eyes so fixated on your hand in his that when he finally looks up, they widen and he pulls away quicker than you’d’ve thought possible. He sits down immediately and focuses pointedly onto his screen. He mumbles again - a quick, “Thank you again. Good espresso.” He can’t bring himself to look at you anymore, but you nod as if he’s looking anyway.

“Thanks, it's Peruvian!” He stares ahead just at his screen. Nods. “Just let us know if you need anything else.” He nods again and you walk back to the counter.

“So, how was it?”

“He’s-”

“You like him don’t you?”

“Would you stop with that? He’s strange,” You think back to his hand under yours, take a deep breath because even he was clearly surprised by his behavior. “But that’s all.”

“F’you say so.” Phil shrugs.

The rest of the day is painfully slow. Just an occasional latte or cappuccino. Nothing interesting. It’s as you’re closing that you see him again. Just as tall, just as weighed down. He still cannot bring himself to look at you when he murmurs “My name is Miguel. Have a good evening.” And he briskly walks out the door, bell ringing behind him. When you clean his table you find five dollars cash and a note in neat handwriting. “Best espresso I’ve had in a while. Will be back.” You pocket the money with a small smile, and take a second - you should split it with Phil, shouldn’t you. You sigh when you walk back and put it in the tip jar, and smile when you tuck it into the envelope labeled “tips”. You finish cleaning quickly, and start your trek back to your apartment. It’s a quick, brisk walk - chilly in the fall. You’d’ve thought after Spider-Man’s visit last night that maybe, your block would’ve been quieter. But the outskirts of Nueva York are never really quiet as you near your building, petty thieves run out of the grocers’ and it’s all you can do to pass by - who knows what could happen if you got involved. They scurry away with their money and goods and you come face to face with your door.

Held tightly to the metal with faint red webs and a note that reads “thanks again, S. M.”, is your jacket. You tug at the webbing, noting the slight warmth and strange pulse that it seems to have. Thrumming softly as you pull it away. Your jacket has clearly been cleaned, impressively might you add as for the amount of blood that seemed to be on it, there isn’t a single stain. You press your palm to your door and put your jacket on as it verifies your identity. You catch a glimpse of the blue and red suit from your kitchen window, he must’ve caught those thieves too!

The next day is bright and early, you put on your jacket for a brisk morning walk, spending your time before work amongst the carefully manicured trees with a sandwich for breakfast. Phil isn’t there when you clock in, and a quick check of your schedule tells you he won’t be there - you’re on your own today (and apparently the rest of the week). So you buckle down, set up the portafilters and check the espresso for the day - (light almond flavoring, all natural - the bean is kind).The morning is steady, different drinks, no terrible customers. Midday slows, no lunch rush today. Your evening is interesting. It gets busy around three o’clock, an entire line that on a Thursday, isn’t common. They’re asking for cortados, specialty drinks, modified with oat, soy and coconut - a never ending onslaught of everything you serve. The pastries you had set out that morning were all gone not even fifteen minutes after three and the line only grew and grew and grew. But you keep your composure. Deep breaths and glances to the tip jar have gotten you through rushes before, it’ll get you through one now. The line starts to dwindle around four thirty. Slowly, slowly thinning and exiting the shop. You are almost completely sold out of pastries and your coffee supply is running a little higher than your energy; not very. That’s when he finally enters again. Miguel(?), from yesterday. With the macchiato.

“Welcome back in,” You try your best to sound enthusiastic for a returning customer but you can’t help the exasperation seeping through. “What can we get you today?”

“Black-eye.” His eyes flit to you. “Please.” And back to the ground as they had been when he entered.

“That’s easy enough, we’ve got good espresso today.” You give him a nod.

“It was good yesterday.”

“But it’s better today, trust me.” You punch his order into the POS, “Oh, preference on single origin?” You smile at him again.

“What’s your lightest roast?” He tilts his head and the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Oh you need caffeine that badly? It’s our Ethiopia.” He shakes his head in amusement.

“No I,” He catches himself, “Yes I need the caffeine.” You start setting up the pour over, 21 grams and a gooseneck.

“What, you have late shifts or something?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Think I can imagine. I have to deal with Phil half the time. Love that kid but god-” He exhales out his nose again, “So anyway, what do you do? Miguel, right?” You're halfway through, one eye on the coffee another on him. At the mention of his name his face drops. His face goes blank, eyes closed and he starts to turn.

“Same place as yesterday.”

“Alright.” Well so much for conversation. You turn as you make your last pour, and switch the espresso machine on, pour the shots and then the coffee. You take the mug and start over to the same table he was hunched over yesterday.

“Your black-eye.” He takes the cup from you this time, pulls it from your hand and doesn’t place it down.

“Do you…” His eyes dart to the side as he trails off, seems to stop himself.

“Oh?”

“Was just going to ask about coffee cake.”

“Oh yes! There is a single one left in the back, would you like it?”

“No.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything else.” He hums in response, sipping at his coffee and turning to his screen. You walk back to continue cleaning up the shop - with the rush of the day it’ll take longer to have it all cleaned and fixed. Your boss was born in 2037, and liked to do things the old fashioned way. No automated cleaning, no voice activated espresso, everything you did was done by hand in this shop. You supposed that maybe that’s what makes your cafe unique or popular, the antiquity of it. You knock the remaining pucks, cringing at the sound as you do, mop the floor, restock just about everything in the shop and even then you still have more to do it seems.

“What time do you close?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you on your way to check the table and chair positions.

“We close in,” You look to your shoulder, and immediately his hand is merely hovering, no longer resting on your shoulder. You continue slowly. “About ten minutes.”

“You’re an incredibly hard worker.” He stands, collecting his screens and pushing in his chair.

“Thanks,”

“It’s -” He cuts himself off again, wincing to himself and pinching his nose. “Nevermind.”

“Have a nice evening!” He bobs his head and doesn’t look back. The next day is slow. Rainy, dreary, cloudy - all of it. And the people willing to come out in this weather… well they all live in the undercity. Y’know - where the weather never changes. It’s a good day for the old jazz music on “Bluetooth” speakers, cozying up with some tea or coffee and setting up to do some computer work yourself. It’s cozy, you alone in the shop at seven in the morning, pastries put on display, coffee by your side and non-work related work set up on the counter. Eventually after sorting your affairs, you turn to check the state of the shop - maybe that Miguel guy would come again today, you might’ve gained a painfully awkward customer these past two days. Maybe it’ll be a different regular, someone seeking shelter from the pouring rain that refuses to drizzle. Maybe you won’t have any customers and you’re forced to go home and catch up on all the things you’ve been meaning to - ever since Spider-Man returned your jacket your door seems to have had some slight issues. You suppose the lock being a kind of genetics based lock (or something? Your landlady would know,) had some strange reaction to Spider-Man’s webs. Which makes perfect sense if you’re honest, if they’re any kind of biological creation they’d have to be a little strange to a door meant to scan a palm. Make it malfunction maybe. So yeah, if it’s a slow day you’d love to make it back and make sure your door isn’t going haywire and that you haven’t been robbed. The rain continues to pound against the windows, showing no sign of stopping. You decide to make yourself a drink and watch the day. The jazz is soft and the rain is loud, the view out the windows is limited, only showing the faint glow of signs reflected in puddles and the occasional passerby.

About two hours in you settle into working on your own thing. The rule is three hours no customers, and you can close. Just one more to go. You’re doing your fourth patrol of the shop when you look out the window again. It’s too rainy to tell exactly who it is, but from a distance you see a silhouette. They seem to be facing the shop, but it is a silhouette, maybe their back is facing the shop. They aren’t holding an umbrella, though maybe it was one of those less affordable nanotechnology devices to keep rain off, and they stand as you watch them (really this is the most interesting thing in hours, the fact that the rain has cleared enough to see the outline). The sign across the street flickers slightly and they flinch at the burst of light amidst the gloom. Eventually you realize how creepy it is of you to stare at someone who’s probably got their back turned to the shop and you go back to pacing. You can’t help but look on your fifth round though, to see if they’re still there.

They stay there for an hour in fact, get a little closer too, so you can tell that the body is masculine. He absolutely is facing the shop, looming closer and closer to the window. He lingers for not even a minute before you see him shake his head, finally take a step to the left and continue away from the shop. You’re left standing and still staring out the window, already possessing the idea to call and report the strange occurrence. You’re stalking your way over even, towards the counter to make a call when the bell finally rings.

“Hello good mornin-” You’re interrupted by a tiny little laugh and take a closer look at the customer in front of you. “And good morning to you too!” You give his daughter a smile and wave gently. She opens and closes her fist in response.

“Hey hey! Would you mind,” Her father gives you a nod and digs around in a large pocket of a pink bathrobe and pulls out some outdated cell phone. “Getting just a few pictures of us? It’s her first time in a coffee shop and I wanna capture the moment.” He holds the brick out to you over the counter and gives you a lazy - but winning, smile. “Thank you, thank you - oh her mother is gonna love this,”

“What’s her name?” You snap a picture.

“Oh this little angel? Mayday!” She coos adorably at her name. “Yep that’s you kid!” He ruffles her hair and you snap another picture.

“Isn’t she just the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen?”

“She’s adorable! You, her father and Mayday all agree with a round of laughter.

“Names Peter, by the way!” He holds his daughter up like that ancient, animated classic with lions and you grab another photo.

“Nice to meet you.”

“My good friend has been stopping in the past few days, mumbling about a good cup of coffee.” The man sets down a drenched umbrella in the stand you keep near the door as he speaks.

“Good friend, do you mea-'' It's right then that the bell rings again. Mayday coos gently at the noise and a sopping wet regular of three days stands on your welcome mat.

“There you are! Miguel, buddy!” Peter claps a hand on his back and Mayday reaches her chubby hand forward.

“I don’t recall telling you about this place.”

“Didn’t have to, s’nice little joint.” He gives you a smile to ignore Miguel’s glare. “And I mean, buddy! You gotta admit you’ve been a little happier these past few days. Wanted to check and see how good this coffee is myself.”

“Do you even drink coffee?” Miguel raises an eyebrow at the man and looks at his very evident lack of coffee.

“Ah,” the man sighs good-naturedly, “Right uh… cappuccino?” You pass back his old phone as you nod.

“Yep, can do! For you?” You turn to Miguel to discover he’s already looking at you.

“Macchiato.” He looks at the child who found her way onto his shoulders and scowls lightly; clearly with no real malice.

“Sure!” Their drinks are simple and Peter wrangles his daughter away from Miguel and they make their way to a slightly larger table. When you bring their drinks, they are mid conversation and you notice that either the man is oblivious or just doesn’t care because Miguel obviously isn’t very interested in what he has to say.

“I’m a geneticist.” He says exasperatedly as you place down each cup. Peter nods at you as you place his coffee and pats a third chair with another winning smile that Mayday echoes. You take a look at the door and then the window. The rain has only gotten worse. You sit and hope for riveting conversation. Miguel gives you a hum of acknowledgement and you join the tables’ conversation and Peter jumps to include you.

“You’re a — see isn’t that great? You know someone for so long and you just,” He gives Miguel a hearty clap on the back and Mayday giggles at the scoff that the larger man gives. “You keep learning things about ‘em. Isn’t that amazing? You can know someone for so long and never know enough huh.” Peter takes a sip of his cappuccino. “Oh my, oh that - that really is fantastic. Miguel buddy, you really know your coffee.” Miguel rolls his eyes and looks towards you. “See he’s always like this! Always this deep broody guy with the weight of the world on his shoulders and he just keeps piling more and more on — that’s why they’re so big y’know — and he just keeps pushing away any relief.” Mayday babbles a little at this as if she’s very wisely agreeing and no one at the table seems to notice the chord that appears to have struck Miguel. “Mhm yep that’s right Daddy’s right about that one, isn’t he!” He presses a kiss to his daughter’s head and Miguel seems to cheer up a little at the laughter that rises. “See if he just took some time for himself-”

“That’s why I’m at a coffee shop.” He mutters to himself, and you know enough Spanish to catch ‘idiot’ “This was time for myself.” He looks to you like he can’t believe he has to put up with this man.

“Yes but you’re always working!” And you think about that for a second because if Miguel is always working, how didn’t Peter know that he was a geneticist. They were close friends after all.

“So Peter, what do you do?”

“Oh I’m a house husband.” He stretches his arms and postures himself proudly. “Yep.” He elongates the word, pops the p for emphasis. “That’s all I ever do. Nothin else.”

“That is all you do. Yes.” Miguel deadpans.

“If you’re a geneticist, mind if I ask?” You speak up and less ill tempered than you thought he might be, Miguel turns to you. “My apartment door has been having a few issues, it’s one of those genetic locks, put a hand on it and it’ll open for you.”

“A little outdated.” He comments.

“Don’t live in a very new apartment, but anyway - very recently it seems to be having some issues?” He seems to sit up as you say this, Peter is playing with Mayday and half paying attention.

“What kinds of issues?” There’s a hard edge to his voice that it almost seems he had tried to shave off. “If you are,” he coughs.

“Comfortable sharing.” You look at him for a bit, both Mayday and Peter have stopped to pay attention.

“Well, recently my door has been malfunctioning a little. I think my neighbor’s kid is getting in because my chairs or tables have moved.”

“M’not gonna have to worry about that with you will I?” Peter pokes his daughter’s cheek gently and smiles. “No I'm not! No I’m not!” Miguel seems to contemplate his response deeply before,

“Are you sure it’s not just old?” He raises a stern eyebrow at you.

“I mean it is, but this is the only issue I've ever had with it; only issue anyone in the building has reported. And we’ve got a classic elevator.” Miguel grumbles at this and doesn’t say anymore. You sit in silence for a little bit, the only sound being the rain and Mayday’s warbles.

“Well, thank you for allowing me to sit-” You almost excuse yourself before Miguel speaks again. There’s something in the way that his hands seem to scrabble at the table and how his eyes seem to widen as you stand from your chair.

“I want to,” Peter and you both turn to look at him as he stares at the cup in front of him. Peter’s eyes widen very unsubtly, “I want to ask you your favorite kind of coffee.” His fingers tap against his biceps.

“Working here made me try a lot of it, and made me realize I like all of it. So I don’t really have a favorite.”

“That’s a good outlook! What’s not to like?” Peter stops abruptly to check his phone. He looks back up frantically. “I gotta get goin though, it’s Miss May’s nap time and she gets real cranky when she misses it. See you later Miguel,” he raises his cup towards you, “Excellent coffee. Really, just exquisite.” He sets his cup down on the table, looks between you and Miguel and puts Mayday back into her little carrier before pulling his umbrella from the holder by the door and exiting into the pouring rain. You see him dash into the street away and dart to the right.

“I,” Miguel starts but the words seem to catch in his throat like they always do.

“You,” You give him a smile “C’mon, talk to me! You’re a regular now,” You take a second to formulate your thoughts. What Peter said explains a lot about his more awkward behaviors. “And probably need someone to talk to if Peter’s right. Don’t keep depriving yourself of joy.” Unlike the previous days where he had avoided your eyes, suddenly he stares into them. You have to wonder, were they always tinged with that red? You had thought they were brown when he first came in, now they're flecked with a ring of maroon. He takes a small sip of his previously untouched coffee and takes a second before responding.

“I was going to ask if you think you’ll be open all day today.” He keeps a straight face, you’re pretty sure there's a hint of warmth in his voice though. “The rain.” He taps the window pane with a large finger.

“Well Miguel,” You don’t notice the way his hand clutches the table, the tense of his shoulders or the lurch in his seat at his name. “I think I’ll be closing early today. Gonna get home, see if I can get that door issue fixed.” You grab Peter’s empty cup and hold it with both hands, offering Miguel a polite smile and nod.

“You’re a hard worker.” He smiles and stands, placing his tiny cup on the table. “It’s refreshing to see. Also very kind.” He pauses before taking a breath and continuing to mutter, “Stupidly kind.” He approaches you slowly. Hands on his hips looking down at you with red eyes. He reaches a hand out, close enough to your cheek that you can feel the warmth radiating from it. He leans down so that your foreheads almost touch, and gently speaks, “Are you sure you’re safe by yourself?” You take a second to process that. Blink as he still looks into your eyes. “You smell good, by the way. Noticed it when I first came in, better than I imagined.” And everything seems to speed up, the rain is louder, your heartbeat palpitates uncomfortably and you hear the blood rushing through your body. He’s been a regular for three days. He’s taken your hand, pat your shoulder and asked your name. He stood outside your shop for an hour this very morning.

“I’m sorry sir, we closed ten minutes ago.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, and try to compose yourself as you say the words.

“What happened to Miguel?” He whispers the words so gently, so strangely vulnerable. His hand lingers by your cheek, fingers twitching. He groans. He shakes his head violently as if it'll make him stop whatever he’s doing. He turns and stands to his full height, eyes leaving yours again. He doesn’t say a word to you as he leaves the shop. You watch him walk slowly into the rain as he leaves and you make sure he doesn’t turn. Immediately you lock the door to the shop, flip the sign to ‘closed’ and pull the blinds. You contact your boss telling them you're closing early and set your sights on getting in touch with law enforcement. The hurdles you have to jump just to get a safe ride home are astounding. Calling the local P.D proves to be useless as all you have are ‘Miguel’ with no last name and ‘abnormally tall’ and those two descriptors don’t get you anywhere. But your distress does seem to affect the other end of the line with some amount of pity, as they dispatch a vehicle to take you home. All it took was a stalker, sobbing your eyes out to a cop and bang, safe ride home with someone comforting you and a shock blanket. Simple really. Oh the joys of being stalked.

“This is where Spider-Man has been hanging out these last few days!” The cop says as you reach your complex. It’s clearly meant to comfort you. “That guy makes the whole city safer, but I don’t gotta tell you that,” They sound like they’re giving you a smile. “Well best be on your way, stay safe and contact us if anything happens, okay?” They point towards the lapel of your jacket, to the Spider-Man pin you got just last week. “Tell ya what, we’ll put in a word with him when we see him next, have him look out for ya.” The cop will probably forget about this in the next few hours and it’ll probably never get back to him, but it’s a kind gesture.

“Thank you.” You exit the vehicle, looking every which way in the rain, checking for shadows along the walls of your complex. You all but run to your apartment and look desperately around for anything taken or misplaced, when you find nothing you turn to your chairs. You’re careful when you stack them against the door. You forgo food and drink in favor of grabbing the emergency metal pipe and decide to sit on your bed to wait for the other shoe to drop. It doesn’t. For hours and hours and hours. The stormy weather never lets up even as it grows darker.

Absolutely nothing seems to happen, save the loud cacophony from outside as Neuva York wakes for the second time of the day, nightlife not being stopped even for the rainstorm. You hear the shouting, the screeches, the loud music that you’ve grown accustomed to sleeping through and like that old classically conditioned dog, it makes you yawn. You look at your malfunctioning door and the small — hopefully effective — barricade and clench your fist tighter around the pipe. Falling asleep now would mean missing if anything were to happen, you try to drill this into your mind, bash it in like it’s a window. No glass shatters to keep you awake however and uneasily you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the city.

You wake up to Spider-Man (suddenly you’re able to identify that broad frame, the shocking height and burdened shoulders of Spider-Man who you’d seen three days ago.) leering over your sleeping body. Even if you can’t see his eyes he’s clearly staring at you. For a second you don’t move, try not to breathe as your heart hammers against your ribs. He doesn’t move for what feels like hours as he stares, he must know by now that you’re awake. The neon glow from the window is dull in the night and the rain has finally stopped, no more clubs blast their music. It’s just you and Spider-Man - Miguel.

You take a deep breath and your heart races and suddenly you can feel the metal pipe in your hand. You tighten your grip and immediately swing your wrist as hard as you can.

He stops it with a hand and tears it from your hand. He gives a disappointed growl, and bends the pipe with ease between his two hands.

“I was,” He sighs deeply. “Impulsive today. I had meant to be slow about it. Meant to be patient.” You cannot bring yourself to move as he continues to speak. “Because I am,” His voice spikes suddenly and he sees you flinch. Spider-Man softens his voice, “Patient.” He groans, turns away from staring at you - finally you can breathe again - and bashes his hand against your wall. “It was going to be weeks,” He cannot seem to help himself now, voice raising slowly as he sweeps back to where you are unable to move on your bed. “Until I would talk to you,” You cannot see him from behind the mask. You imagine him with the same stern eyes, haggard and a sneer if his tone is anything to go on. “But you,” His body heaves and before you can throw yourself from the bed and make a break for the door, a monstrous hand finds the back of your head. Fingers card tenderly through your hair before another hand appears on your hip and wrenches your entire body up, face forcibly made to look at his mask as it gives way to blindingly red eyes, iris sclera and pupil all flooded with the sickening red that blood often starts as. “You wanted this.” He softens, as he looks at you, “You wanted my impatience, didn’t you?” His eyes dart to your Spider-Man pin and he gently moves the hand on your hip so that it’s his forearm beneath your thighs and presses you closer to his chest so that you feel his lips drag on the top of your head. “If I had known I would’ve just taken you with me three nights ago.” He releases your grasp on your hair, and you pull away to see the red of his eyes recede like the beach before a tsunami. “See what you do?” He pats your cheek softly, “I’ll make it up to you. You’ve been nothing but foolish and kind. I’ll make this easier, stay still for me.” He offers you that same small smile, and pushes your head upwards to his cheek. You can feel his erratic heartbeat against your chest as Miguel nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck once more before taking a deep whiff of you and while you’re too busy trying to hold back the bile in your throat, he crumples into you and sighs as if this was the happiest he'd been in years. You feel his lips part against your skin and it feels like bugs crawling on you when he rumbles against your neck. You try your best to block out the tender mutterings of “You’re sweeter than….” and “Made for me,” before you feel his fangs sink delicately into your skin.

You pass out from the shock and pain before you feel the warmth of his venom.

[boo8008]

Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Notes: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Warnings: angst | fluff | ghosting mention | mentions of suicide | language | mental health | pining | unrequited love????? | substances (alc & weed) | overdose | yelling | grief | descriptions of panic attacks| eventual smut

Notes: This is my first time really writing so let me know what you think, I'm probably gonna do more just for me. If there's something I should add/remove from the tags please let me know. I hope you enjoy :)

A year after their soft open, The Bear is like a well oiled machine, working perfectly as Richie calls out the orders and their corresponding tables. Carmen’s on auto pilot as he works, doing his best to not think about where he was this time last year: breaking down in the walk-in and subsequently breaking up with Claire. If you can even call it a break up, he still isn't sure if they were actually dating. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts as Fak enters again announcing the final table of the night was just seated. Almost from memory Richie calls out your name and party of one, doing more than trowing Carm from his thoughts; practically gut-punching him through the thick metal wall of the walk-in with memories of New York, not the asshole of an executive chef he worked for but of the calm and blissful three months he had from December to February with you. 

Before his life got uprooted. 

Before The Beef. 

Before Mikey…

He’s brought back as Richie yells at him before he looks up at him, looking at his face.

“Cousin, you good?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don't look fine, chef.”

“I’m fine.” Carmen insists again.

Richie rolls his eyes as he returns to calling out orders for a moment.

“You look like your gonna throw up,” Sydney mutters.

“I’m fucking fine, Jesus fuck,” Carmen snaps. Stoping his task as he looks up to Sydney then Richie, whose still scribbling something down.

“Take five chef.” Richie says, still not looking up.

“Richie, I said-”

“It wasn't a request Carm.” Richie finally looks up at him, ever sense that test night a year ago, and when Richie started wearing suits, hes been more final in his input. Telling and suggesting and researching rather than just complaining. Fuck he even learned to do more prep properly to help out on the busier nights. Why Richie even stayed after that night he isn’t sure, the shit he said was fucked. He wouldn't have blamed him, Syd, or anyone else for walking out on him if they did. 

“Syd take over for Carm, Tina for Syd, and Alex for Tina; Carm needs a sec.” If the uniformed call of “Yes Chef” from the kitchen doesn't do it, the sudden movement of the kitchen to function without him more than solidifies it. Carmen’s taking five wether he wants to or not.

Not wanting a repeat of a year ago, Carm takes to the office instead, seeing Sugar seated at the desk looking at paperwork, all shes been relegated to now that shes just had little Mikey. A name Carmen was surprisingly happy to approve of when Pete brought it up to the two of them, asking if it was okay. Nat had nearly bawled her eyes out thanks to the combination of pregnancy hormones and the normal grasp she had on her emotions compared to Carmen.

“You look like your gonna throw up,” she says, glancing up from the papers before her. A half hearted fuck off is all she gets in responce as Carmen flops back on the soft leather couch in the office. She tosses him the pepto before she turns to sign something.

“You wanna talk about why Richie kicked you off?” she asks, her back still turned.

“It’s nothing,” he says before taking a swig of the pink liquid as he sits up and faces her.  

“It’s not nothing if you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that,” she says turning and gesturing vaguely at him. “Like you just found out Santa isn’t real or some-fucking-thing.” Carmen shakes his head avoiding her gaze and looking out the door with a huff. Crossing his arms trying to end the conversation. It wasn't that he never wanted to talk about it, he did. He just didn't have the time. 

The last time he had told any one about you, he had talked to Mikey about how awkwardly ended things with you. Mikey told him not to be a jagoff after hearing his rant. That was almost a week before he died. It became easier to not think about you because it always led to thoughts of Mikey. How Carm should have known or should have talked to him more about how he was, how the beef was doing, how ma and Natilie were, if there was anything Michael wanted to get off his chest or was stressed about or something other than Carmen's girl problems.

Then Carm had to worry about selling his apartment in New York, quitting his job, getting an apartment here and moving, running The Beef, which was its own massive undertaking, turning it into The Bear and worrying about Claire, dishes, codes, tests, money that was likely tied to the mob via Uncle Jimmy, chefs, the building, new hires, the test night and the the dreaded walk-in he had to thank for letting him rant until he talked out of his ass and fucked up his personal life even more.

“Fine whatever avoid it if you want but thats not going to make it any better,” Nat huffed out, rolling her eyes as she turned. Carmen knew she was right, but that didn't make it any easier. But if the Al-Anon meetings had taught him anything it was that talking about it did actually help. 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, leg bouncing with the nerves of from trying to find the words he wanted to say.

“When I was in New York,” he started, already feeling a nervous sweat breakout on his face, back, and hands. “There was this girl…”

[thefrogdalorian]

Dincember Day 13: Family

Word Count: 2710 Rating: Teen Summary: Din Djarin is a complex man, with many walls you have not yet successfully broken down. You have been slowly building a life with the man who has a traumatic past he has alluded to, but never discussed in detail. One night, Din wakes up from a nightmare and finally lets you in. You comfort him, reminding him of your love for him and how much he deserves his unlikely family. Content Warnings: This one is pretty heavy. Deals with grief, PTSD, nightmares, survivor's guilt. Please be aware before proceeding! Author's Note: This came about because of how much I NEED to hug Din Djarin and make sure he's always loved and protected against The Horrors. Yes I know he's fictional but the sign won't stop me because I can't read. Also, I've written about Din comforting reader before but never reader comforting Din and I loved this for a change. Sometimes men just need a blub and a hug. Back to some festive fluff I hope tomorrow, but I hope you enjoyed!

Link to read on AO3 | My Dincember Masterlist

The slight movement next to you caused your eyes to flutter open. The cabin was completely dark and silent, save for the strange noise coming from somewhere next to you. At first, you thought that perhaps Grogu had wandered into your room as he sometimes did when he would Force leap to snuggle up with you and Din after a nightmare, and the peculiar noise was the sound of him snoring. You soon realised, though, that it was too loud to be Grogu. That left only one other person. You turned on the light resting on a small table next to your side of the cot to better assess the situation. 

When you turned over to face Din, the sight that greeted you caused your stomach to drop. You realised that something was seriously wrong. Din was sitting bolt upright, his broad shoulders rising and falling as the sounds of him quietly sniffling filled the room. 

“Din, are you alright?” You asked, voice full of concern as you sat up and rested your hand on the small of his back, moving it up and down, attempting to comfort him.

There was no response with words, just a choked sob. Din was too upset to vocalise his emotions. He shook his head slowly, looking around at you, his brown eyes shimmering with tears that had not yet fallen down his cheeks.

“Take your time, I’m here, I’ve got you,” You soothed, continuing to rub the warm expanse of Din’s back slowly. You hoped your motions brought him comfort, even if he could not vocalise a response. 

The sounds that were coming from the man you loved so much were like a punch in the gut, your insides twisted as you listened to the blood curdling sound. You wrapped your arm around Din’s shoulders and brought him closer to you, so his head rested on your chest. You ran your fingers through his curls softly, hoping that the motions would ease whatever pain he was currently experiencing. Your chest ached to know that he was in so much distress. You felt paralysed. Despite doing your best to help him, the awful sniffling sounds did not cease.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Din sniffed into your chest, “I wo-woke you up.”

“Din, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want you to go through this alone,” You said, kissing his head softly, “I’m here for you. You’re going to be okay.”

Din just nodded against your chest. You felt relieved that at least he was able to respond to your words, giving a small indication that he believed them. Despite his anguish, knowing that your comforting touches and words were reaching him on some level reassured you. 

“Was it a bad dream?” You asked, once the sniffles had died down.

“I had a nightmare about…” Din gasped, “My parents.”

“Oh, Din,” You soothed, pulling his head against your chest and wrapping your arms around him even more tightly. You did not fully know what had happened to Din’s parents, only that he had lost them under traumatic circumstances at a young age, which was why he had been adopted by the Mandalorians. “I’m so sorry, that must have been awful. I wish I could do something more to make it right for you."

“It was,” Din squeaked. His usually calm, steady voice sounded so shaky and small. It was as if he were a frightened boy, rather than the hulking man that he was.

“I’m so sorry you had to relive that, honey,” You soothed, “It was just a dream though. You’re safe now. You're here in this cabin with me and Grogu and nothing bad will happen to you. Alright?”

Din nodded again. You felt some of the tension he had been holding in leaving his body as he relaxed slightly in your arms. It would take some time before he was fully calm again, but you knew he was on the right track at least, as the sniffles grew gradually more infrequent.

“Thank you,” Din finally said gratefully. He slowly lifted his head from where he had nestled it in your chest and turned to face you.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him, Din looked utterly broken. His eyes were bloodshot; there were deep, dark bags under them too. The lines on his handsome face seemed even more drawn than usual, the warm orange glow of the lamp that you had switched on revealed the devastating toll that his nightmare had wrought on him emotionally. 

“Oh, Din,” You whispered, reaching up to hold his face in your hands, stroking his stubbly cheeks gently with your thumbs. “I hate to see you like this. If you want to talk about it, share your burden with me, you know I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” Din sighed, breaking eye contact and looking down at the cot below you. “I’ve never told you what happened to them, I mean, my parents… have I?” Din asked, his brown eyes remaining firmly fixed towards the blankets. 

“No, you haven’t,” You shook your head, “But you don’t have to tell me if it will upset you more.”

“I think… it would be good for me to share things with you. I mean, I thought for so long that they were the only family I would ever have,” Din admitted, brown eyes now looking at you once more. “Until I found you,” Din added, a small smile pulling at the corners of his plush lips.

You were floored by the beautiful sentiment. Sometimes, glimpses of the closed-off, emotionally unavailable bounty hunter that Din had once been came through. Despite how much Din had grown as a person since you had gotten to know him, you knew there was somewhat of a dark past there that he was still doing his best to overcome. The loss of his parents at an early age undoubtedly was a part of that past, and you were honoured that he trusted you enough to confide in you about what had happened to them. You both shifted so that you were sitting facing each other and you reached out to hold Din’s large, warm hands in your hands as they rested in his lap, you wanted him to know that you were with him.

“I was born on a planet called Aq Vetina. I had a happy childhood, my parents absolutely adored me. I never doubted for one single second their love for me. And they adored each other,” Din shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. You could see how much pain it was causing him to cast his mind back there. You looked at him encouragingly, squeezed his hand and with your reassuring touch, Din continued: “It was like any other day. I think I was running around the town centre with my friends, playing happily like a child when we heard it. This terrible noise was unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was the sound of them approaching... the Separatists. My friends... we panicked and scattered. I sprinted back in the direction of my home, but my parents had already heard the commotion. Somehow, I found them in the chaos, and my father picked me up. When I found them, I thought I was safe, but we weren't out of the woods yet. My father was carrying me, my mother was running alongside and we were heading for shelter away from the destruction but…”

Din was too upset to continue. You wanted to reassure him that he did not have to relive it if it was too painful for him: “Din, you don’t have to–”

“No, please,” Din said, exhaling shakily. “I want to tell you. I think… Talking helps, it’s important for me that I talk about them. So that I never forget them.”

“Okay, Din,” You nodded, trusting he could handle it.

“We tried to make it somewhere to hide, but it was too late. The droids were right there, obliterating everything in their path. Up ahead, there was a building that we probably could have taken shelter in, but it was risky, there were more droids up ahead. So my parents… they found somewhere small enough where I could hide and be safe. They hugged me, then opened the doors and put me down below, in a cellar. The doors closed and that was the last time I ever saw them. The next time the doors opened there was a Battle Droid there and I thought…” Din stopped, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath, “I thought I was dead.”

“But you’re not Din, you lived, you survived,” You reminded him.

“I know. All thanks to them. My parents... they paid dearly to keep me safe. In my dreams, the door opens and the droid is there to shoot me, except the reality where the Mandalorians arrived at that moment, shot the droid and saved me does not happen.” Din said shakily, his voice cracking. “In my dream, no one comes. The droid is there and it… it…” Din whimpered.

“I know, Din,” You held his cheek in your hand, wiping the tears that fell as he cried softly, “I know, you don’t have to finish that off.”

“I just feel so guilty sometimes, why did I survive?” Din said, between sobs. “Out of everyone on that planet, why me? My parents, they should have had long and happy lives together, grown old and watched me grow up. But instead, they were wiped out along with everyone on Aq Vetina. Yet, I survived.”

“Oh, Din,” You breathed, “I cannot even imagine how traumatic that burden must have been for you to carry. You were so young, too. It's no wonder that it still haunts you all these years later. But you have nothing to feel guilty about. Your parents, they wanted you to live. They made the ultimate sacrifice so you could live, they would want you to do so without guilt. To be happy. And if they could see you now, they would be so proud of the man that you are. Do you know that?”

“I just… I go between gratitude to them for the life I’ve lived since and thinking that I should have… gone with them,” Din whispered.

Hearing Din say those words floored you, the air was sucked out of your lungs. To think that he would contemplate such a thing devastated you. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just when I have these dreams, these dark thoughts surface. When the droid comes, I think it might’ve been fairer if there was no Mandalorian to save me, so we all went together,” Din whispered darkly. Your hand was still cupping his jaw but he was no longer looking at you. “I just feel unworthy sometimes.”

You took a deep breath and reached out to hold his face with both hands. Din lifted his chin to look into your eyes. You exhaled and began to reassure him. “Din Djarin, you are more than worthy of every single good thing that has happened to you in your life,” You said, firmly. “You were just a little boy when it happened, Din. There was nothing you could have done. There is nothing you can do to change the past. I think it’s… it’s probably a pretty normal thing to think after such a traumatic experience, but you mustn’t believe it, Din,” You pleaded, “Okay? You lived for a reason. Look at everything you have achieved, the way you love Grogu, the enormous role you had in retaking Mandalore. And the way you love me. You deserved to live, Din, you deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you,” Din said, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. “I know you’re right.” Din opened his eyes again and looked at you. “I just wish I could see my parents one more time and thank them. I wish they could see me now. I know it’s been so many years and I probably should have gotten over it by now," Din shrugged.

“There is no timeline for getting over something like this, Din. It will be a part of you forever. But I also think what happened to you shaped the man you are. The man who I love so much," You said, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs tenderly. “You are giving Grogu all the love that you wish your parents had been able to give to you. That little boy lost his parents too, you know what that feels like. But then you came along, you gave him a life, Din. After so many years of pain, now he has a father to love and protect him. Where would he be without you?”

“I know, I love him so much,” Din admitted, his voice cracking at the mention of his son.

“And he loves you. And I love you,” You wiped the tears that trailed down Din’s cheeks with your thumbs. “We are a family, Din. You lost your parents when you were so young, but you have a family now.”

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Din whispered.

“Well, it's a good thing I’m not going anywhere,” You smiled through the tears that had begun to fall down your own cheeks. “I’m with you forever, Din. Until our songs are written.”

“I love you,” Din whispered, bringing you close to his chest and wrapping his arms around you. “Thank you for loving me, for being my family.”

You just allowed Din to hold you, knowing from the way he nuzzled into your hair that he was getting comfort from having you in his arms. You stayed like that for a while, drawing strength and comfort from each other.

“Do you want to try to get some more rest?” You asked eventually, aware that Din had not slept very long. The Nevarrian sunrise was still hours away.

“Okay,” Din whispered, manoeuvring the two of you so that you were lying down. Your cheek ended up against his broad chest, so you could hear his beating heart and his arms wrapped around you. “Thank you, for everything, cyare.”

“You’re welcome, Din,” You replied, “I’m here for you, always. Thank you for being so open. I’m proud of you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Din sighed. 

You closed your eyes, suddenly aware of how exhausted you were after such an emotional conversation. Sleep would not be far away, it seemed. But judging by the small, even breaths coming from your favourite Mandalorian, it seemed that Din had beat you to it. The soft sounds indicated that he had finally slipped into the much needed slumber that his mind and body were crying out for. 

You hoped that confiding in you about the terrible nightmare he had endured and subsequent thoughts that haunted him had eased some of the burden that Din carried with him. As you turned to look at him, pride swelled in your chest. You were so proud that the frightened, traumatised boy from Aq Vetina who had lost everything he ever knew and everyone he ever loved that one fateful day had grown into such a kind, honourable man. You knew Din loved you and Grogu with everything he had. Despite the horrors he had endured, he had worked hard to overcome them and not let his traumatic past define him. 

And along the way, he had found his own unlikely little family. A family that would receive all of the love he had stored up inside him, love that had been dormant, just waiting to be unleashed; to be given to others. Learning to love others was a process that had begun with Grogu, the special little boy softened the cold, detached Mandalorian's heart and revealed his softer side. But in meeting you, Din had discovered that his capacity for love went beyond what he ever thought possible.

You felt honoured to receive that love every single day, just as you knew that Din felt grateful for your love in return. You knew that regardless of what trials and tribulations lay ahead, Din Djarin would always have the one thing that had eluded him for so many years, but had nonetheless always deserved: his own family. 

[itsnothingofinterest]

So uh, I have some concerns about this one line from the latest chapter I'd like to get off my chest.

While I'm sure there are more favourable or charitable reads of "I thought for sure that smashing Tenko's spirit would break them both" you could possibly make, a face value read really has me asking: Deku, what the hell do you mean by that? Did you mean to actually break Tomura's soul and leave him in the same unresponsive 'gone' state he left AFO in?

Because as much as I disapproved of invading Tomura's mind and understood why he fought against it, I did think it was just a 'forcefully break down his emotional walls to make him open up' thing. I thought when Nana and the other vestiges kept talking about attacking his core as a weak point, they were just being stubborn and still were a page behind Deku's plan to save him. But if Deku really did mean this whole ordeal as an attack to harm Tomura; well that's pretty disappointing to put lightly.

What happened to saving the crying child? What was the point of insisting on his humanity? Of refusing to just charge up a big punch and kill him? Was all this really just another, more tasteful way to put down the big bad the whole time? What, did he feel the need to end Tenko's sadness before smashing his spirit to feel like he got saved before the end? Oh God dammit don't tell me Deku's been following Gran Torino's advise this whole time!

Man I hope not.

But you know, sad to say a part of me always did consider in the back of my mind the chance Deku might’ve taken Gran Torino’s words about killing being a form of saving to heart. Never a big part, never a big chance before this chapter; Gran Torino’s crazy for thinking murder would somehow save Tomura and obviously Deku would never go for that, right?…but I don't recall he's ever has opposed or openly disagreed with his teachers (even at the times when he really should, we all remember him praising Endeavor to Touya's face) nor has he ever openly opposed anyone else's plans to kill Tomura in this arc; so there was always that 1% chance, you know?

But now, while yes favourable reads on that "smashing Tenko's spirits to break him" line are possible as I said, ...that chance might’ve jumped up to the double digits in my mind.

[theyanderespecialist]

Their Genya (Scenarios) Yandere Upper Moon 4 Soulmates (Aizetsu) X Adult Genya (Demon Slayer)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins, so the votes of Tumblr did the story and so the winner is Aizetsu who deals with him first so yeah good luck! 

(Disclaimer: Genya is aged up to 19 in this! He is an ADULT, no gross kid stuff allowed! 

Disclaimer: This is a soulmate AU In which Supernatural Things Like Demons develop Soulmates. Upper Moon Four all Have Genya Named Tattoo On Their wrists. Ever since they become demons. Genya only gets their name marked on them when he is touched skin to skin by them since he is half demon sometimes. He cannot fully feel the connection to his soulmates. But they can feel the connection to them and felt it since he was born. Their wrist with Genya's name will burn when they make eye contact with Genya, it is a semi-onesided soulmate connection! 

Disclaimer: Upper Moon 4 and His Emotion Clones are Not Yandere in canon! This is just for fun, and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! You know who you are! Your Dirty, Flaky, Biscuits! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!) 

Now let's do this, enjoy this!] 

(Upper Moon 4, Sorrow/Aizetsu) (Heartbreak) 

(Aizetus's POV) 

I had come out when someone shot Sekido's and Karaku's necks. To say we had to fight was a typical thing, but then I looked into his eyes. He was glaring at me and I felt my wrist born. Our Soulmate was here, and he was a demon slayer? I stared at him and then he went to shoot me, did he not feel the connection? It was rare for Demons to meet their soulmates. It was even harder to find them. We have heard that while a demon's soulmate is human, they cannot feel the connection to their demon soulmates.  I did not want to fight our soulmate. It broke my heart to attack him but he was giving me no choice. I grabbed my spear and pierced him into the wall.  "Sekido, Karaku, Urogi!" I call out. "We have no time to waste here! We have to kill them now, Genya, our soulmate is here!"  Genya froze and looked down at me. I know he must be confused so I reached out and touched his wrist and as I did my kanji Sorrow was burned into his skin.  "W-What the hell did you just do to me!?" He demands of me.  "Do not fight it, dear," I tell him. "We will kill those vile humans and take you from his place." 

He- He should be bleeding more. Why is his body healing? He growled and I saw his hair color change at the tips, as well as his eyes, and he grew fangs. "Genya, dear..." I say as I look at him. "What are you?"  He slashed claws at me and lunged forward, biting into me. He ribbed off a piece of flesh and swallowed it. Was Genya a certain type of human that could have demon traits? He got stronger and went to punch me before he fell to the ground. It... It looks like he felt the pain of trying to kill one of his soulmates. Soulmates could not intently kill each other. So Genya is some type of demon and he can feel a semi connection.  "What the hell did you do to me!" He shouts at me drooling from the mouth.  My heart is breaking at how much pain he is in. I have no choice I have to knock him out. I began to fight him and soon knocked him out. Sekido and Karaku walked over, and Urogi touched down.  "They are dead?" I asked gently picking up our soulmate.  "Yes, Everyone in the sword smith village is dead. So are two Hashiras." Sekido says. "We better get out of here."  I nodded and Nakime opened a door for us to go back to our quarters. Since I found Genya I was then to clean him up. The others were jealous, but when I explained what I knew they gave in. The six others would meet Genya soon enough and Lord Muzan would want to learn more about Genya's sort of Half Demon ability.  I got him dressed in some clean clothes and with his demon ability, he was fully healed. I sit next to him, I know he will be so angry when he wakes up. But he is ours, he is mine, I cannot and would not let the demon slayers have him. He belongs to us, me. I kiss his cheek and take his hand in mine.  I feel the heartbreak that he does not love us yet, and it makes me so sad... but he will one day love us, love me. He is never ever leaving us after all and soon enough we WILL turn him into a full demon and he will NEVER Escape us. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS first part of this mini-series is done! Now who would you like to see next with Aged Up Soulamte Genya  Sekido (Anger), Karaku (Pleasure), Urogi (Joy), Physically Aged Up Zohakuten (Hatred),  Urami (Resentment), Hantengu (Original/Fear)

Vote which one and I hope you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[emma23]

Shadow of her:

Nathan bateman x reader

————————————————————————

The low hum of Nathan’s estate reverberated through the walls, the steady thrum of machinery giving life to the cold, minimalist space. Everything here was perfect in its execution—sharp lines, sterile surfaces, and an emptiness that was mirrored in the silence that hung between Y/n and Nathan. The AI systems were always running, always watching, but it wasn’t them that made Y/n feel like she was suffocating.

It was him.

Nathan sat at the counter, his eyes glued to a tablet, the glow illuminating his hardened features. He wasn’t drunk tonight, but the glass of whiskey in his hand hinted that it wouldn’t be long until he reached that familiar state. Y/n watched him from the doorway, her fingers tight around the edge of the frame. She’d spent too many nights like this, standing on the fringes, waiting for him to notice her, to see her.

But it never happened.

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, stepping into the room. “Nathan, we need to talk.”

He didn’t look up. “If this is about the AI testing, I told you it’s fine. Ava’s progress is—"

“It’s not about Ava,” Y/n interrupted, her voice harder than she intended. “It’s about us.”

That got his attention. Nathan’s gaze flickered to hers, but it was as though he was looking through her, not at her. He sighed, setting the tablet down with a heavy clink. “This again?”

The frustration in his voice lit a fuse inside her. “Yes, this again! Do you even care?”

Nathan stood, his full height and broad frame towering over her. “Care? Of course I care. But I’ve been busy, Y/n. I can’t just drop everything to—"

“Busy with your work or busy drinking?” she snapped, her heart pounding in her chest. “Because it seems like everything—everything—comes before me.”

Nathan’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I built this—this entire world! You think that’s easy? That it doesn’t require sacrifice?”

“Sacrifice?” Y/n let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t know the meaning of the word. You’ve isolated yourself here, pushing everyone away, including me.”

She hadn’t meant to go this far. She hadn’t meant to let her emotions spill over, but now that they had, she couldn’t stop. The floodgates had opened, and all the anger, all the resentment she’d buried for so long came pouring out.

Nathan took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous. “I didn’t ask for this marriage, Y/n. Neither of us did. But we’re stuck with it. So why don’t you stop acting like you’re the only one who’s suffering?”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hit him, but all she could do was stand there, trembling, her chest tight with the weight of everything she’d been holding in.

“You said you feel trapped in this marriage,” she began, her voice quieter now but filled with a deep, aching hurt. “But how do you think I feel? I was forced to marry someone I’ll never stand a chance with… someone who will never even be able to look at me without thinking of my sister.”

Nathan’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t—"

“No, listen to me!” she cut him off, her voice rising. “I’ll never be her. When given a choice between hurting either of us, it’s always me you’ll choose. I’ll never be your priority, not truly. I know that now.”

Nathan’s silence was deafening. He stood there, his hands at his sides, his gaze piercing through her like she was nothing more than another one of his machines, something he could study, dissect, and discard when it no longer served him.

“You’ll never see me as anything more than a replacement,” Y/n whispered, her voice breaking. “A placeholder for the one you truly wanted.”

The room was suffocating, the weight of their unspoken truths hanging in the air between them. Nathan’s face was unreadable, a mask of cold detachment. But behind it, Y/n could see the cracks—the flicker of something he refused to acknowledge.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nathan finally said, his voice tight. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” she asked, taking a step closer, her chest brushing against his as she looked up at him. “Tell me, Nathan. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that I matter to you. That I’m more than just… her shadow.”

Nathan’s silence was answer enough.

The sharp sting of rejection settled deep in her chest. She wanted to scream, to cry, to run, but instead, she stood there, waiting for a response she knew would never come.

Nathan’s hand reached out, his fingers grazing her cheek, and for a brief moment, Y/n closed her eyes, leaning into the touch, craving any scrap of affection he was willing to give. But the warmth was fleeting. His touch was cold, clinical. A reminder that this was all they would ever be—two people bound by circumstance, but never by love.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but even his apology felt empty.

Y/n opened her eyes, staring up at him, her heart breaking with every second that passed. “Sorry doesn’t change anything, Nathan. I’ll never be her.”

Nathan’s hand dropped to his side, his expression hardening again as if he’d already moved past the moment. He turned away, retreating back into the safety of his work, leaving Y/n standing in the middle of the room, alone once again.

The ache in her chest was unbearable, the realization that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she would always come second. Always in the shadow of a woman she could never compete with.

She turned to leave, her hand lingering on the doorframe. “I hope your machines keep you warm at night, Nathan,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “Because I won’t be here anymore.”

And with that, she walked away, the cold emptiness of the estate swallowing her whole

[moo-blogging]

Could you make a part 2 of the fic were Levi holds the reader close before he leaves for a mission? Could part 2 be about what happens when he comes back?

Only if it’s ok😊

You only had a glimpse of him when the flying machine touched ground. His small figure behind Zeke's massive physique, rushing him to somewhere only Hange and he knew. You did ask him where would he be at. At least you could stare at the direction of where he would be. But Levi being Levi, he let nothing slipped from his tongue except kisses on your lips.

It was only a 15-hr operation, but time seemed to stopped while they were gone, and since the flying machine came into sight, time sped up faster than usual. The city was a sandstorm of adrenaline and eye contact between personnel who knew only their part of work. Levi ensured you were positioned within the city, where you would have a good chance of tackling any form of attacks using your Maneuver Gear.

"Run, if you can't." It was the first time you heard from Levi to run away from your responsibility as a soldier. "Promise me, you would run."

"I will."

.

It was over. The walls crumbled and the rumbling started. You slumped on the remnants of the walls, unable to comprehend what had happened.

"Wait.." you croaked, "where is Levi? Where did you lose him? DONT LEAVE BEFORE YOU TELL ME!" You tried to run toward the Founding Titan. You wanted to get hold on Zeke and punch his face and make him tell you where was the love of your life. One of the soldiers caught you and pulled you to safety. You couldn't think straight now.

.

When you saw Hange by the window, you thought you had been insane. You tried so hard to force any information out of their mouth but they refused to give out anything about Levi until you saw him.

"Is he alive? Please tell me this." You begged.

Hange hesitated. "Yes."

.

You head went blank. You had expected him to be hurt, but what you saw was far from what you had expected. Levi was heavily bandaged and strapped onto a cart. Your blood run cold and your knees threatened to give way. Trembling, you moved toward him. With shaking hands, you cupped his cheeks and you exhaled in relief. His cheeks were warm.

You sat by the cart, gently holding his hand as everybody sat by the fire. You had cried as you walked, and now all you hoped for was no pain for Levi. You hoped he was so deeply asleep he felt nothing. It broke your heart when you saw his hand. He had lost 2 fingers. You held his wounded hand in yours so very gently and every time you looked down at his palm, your heart broke and you had to force your tears back. You felt a pain so deep in your heart you couldn't stop tearing up.

"Y/N, my love?"

You jolted. You looked at his face and he had already been looking at yours. His greyish blue eye was tinted with relief and love. Out of control, you broke into a loud wail. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, sobbing your heart out.

With his rough, bandaged palm, Levi stroked your face. You held onto his shirt, shaking and crying all the unexplainable emotions you had been holding in.

"Forgive me, my love. I almost didn't make it." Levi pressed his face onto your hair, inhaling you again. Levi was glad you were alright. He swore you got skinnier compared to 48hrs ago when he last saw you. His heart broke to the sound of your crying. He wanted to hold you so bad but his body was too heavy to control.

All he could do was gently stroking your face, staining your tears on his bloodied bandage. At least tonight, you had each other.

[sc0tters]

Long Gone | Nico Hischier

summary: the downfall of your relationship with Nico is both thick and fast, especially when neither one of you try to stop it.

song: don’t come back - Tate McRae

request: yes/no

warnings: a few swear words, toxic Nico, mentions of alcohol and drinking.

word count: 1.22k

authors note: this one was a bit shorter than the others but that’s because I’m off to bed cause I’m going skydiving in the morning (I wish I was kidding). if you are in a toxic relationship wether it be a platonic or romantic one I can’t stress this enough, please try your best to remove yourself from it and remember that you are loved. If you want to either see more of the celly or be apart of it you can find the playlist here!

pt 2

Nico was ready to throw four years down the drain.

All of the warning bells rung in your head the more you thought about it. For the last three months you were only learning about team events through the other wags. The nights he would go out with the boys drinking you only learnt about his whereabouts of the evening once he got home reeking of alcohol. Your relationship had well and truly gone from being girlfriend and boyfriend to what felt like an awkward roommate agreement.

Until last week you had fought him on every thing he did, the late nights, the lack of care, the not inviting you, every single last thing that he did in an attempt to pull away you had to fight him on. But when you found a necklace in his side of the closet whilst you were doing laundry your heart broke. It wasn’t a piece that you owned and you realised it was bought on the teams trip to Carolina based on the date marked at the top of the receipt.

You wouldn’t have been so hurt by it if you hadn’t just gotten a bottle opener that looked like it came from the airport.

That paired with the fact that he missed lunch in New York with your parents who were there for business that weekend made you officially want to pull your hair out.

You let the door to your apartment slam shut as you swore that you were seething. The amount of emotions that went through your body was enough to make any straight thinking person nearly pass out “Nico!” You yelled as your bags dropped to the floor.

The Swiss man was sat on the couch mindlessly scrolling through his phone “you look interesting,” he commented as he was surprised to see how put together you were for some random Tuesday.

It made you roll your eyes as it took everything in your power to not go ahead and punch him “what the fuck have you been doing?” You asked as you pushed his feet off of the ottoman so that you could sit on it.

The gesture made him furrow his eyebrows “a friend wanted to go for lunch-” he explained as he motioned to the leftovers that were on the kitchen table.

You couldn’t help it when you reached over to hit him but unfortunately for you his reaction timing was too good as he wrapped his hand around your wrist “so I covered for you for nothing?” The scoff that fell from your lips was vile as you struggled to process how he was so okay with what he had done. Nico did nothing more than just wait for you to continue though “lunch with my parents was today.” You sucked at your teeth as you ran your fingers through your hair.

What pissed you off the most was that he didn’t even seem sorry “my bad,” he shrugged as he got up.

You weren’t proud of the borderline temper tantrum type scream you let out as you stood up too “I had to sit there for three fucking hours acting like you’re the best boyfriend in the world.” You pointed out as you marched behind him “when really you’re just a piece of shit.” The latter comment from you got Nicos haggles up as he was quick to back you against a wall.

His laugh was a dark chuckle “yeah, what’s so shitty about me?” He asked as he ran his fingers through your hair as he tucked it behind your ear.

Small, no tiny, maybe even minuscule was how you felt in that very moment “I know about her!” It was like you were proud of the fact that you had caught him in the cheating act.

Nico’s once irritating chuckle now turned into an amused giggle “you think I’m cheating on you?” Sure you weren’t his favourite thing right now but there wasn’t another woman in his bed or in his life like that.

It hurt you how nonchalant he was about it all “I know about the necklace.” If this was any other time you could have found his quick demeanour change amusing “you searching through my stuff?” That’s how it always seemed to be. Anytime there was a fight between you two even if you should have only held like twenty percent of the blame it was always flipped onto you “I’m sorry.” You apologised as your head dropped.

But before you could say anything else Nico was already in your shared bedroom and had locked the door behind him.

Since then you had gone pretty quiet when you were at home but most of the time you spent at a friends place. The girls had all been fabulous as they helped you cope with Nico. It surprised them just as much as it did you when he started pulling away as everyone thought he was close to proposing to you, not kicking you out of your apartment.

You didn’t know if it was a pro or a con that the girls knew you so well that they could see that you weren’t in a good relationship anymore. It was effecting you mentally and nobody should have to walk on eggshells around their partner 24/7.

And that is how you all landed in an elevator to the top floor of your apartment building where you and Nico lived. One of the girls had seen on Jacks story that the Swiss man was out at another bar and that was why they decided to go clear your stuff out then.

Yes your friend group had smarter plans before but you were ladies with a few bottles of wine in your system and were all now ready to take on the world.

The reason why they had mainly come with though was because they all knew that it you saw Nico then it would be all over and you’d probably be apologising to him once more for something you didn’t do.

It was all going so well, your things had been packed away into the multiple suitcases that the girls brought with them as you all knew that it would be easier to tug those suitcases downstairs than it would be to carry boxes down.

Your heart sank as the front door opened “what is this?” Nico slurred as he was beyond drunk at this point.

There was a squeeze at your hand as your best friend sent you a smile in an attempt to give you some encouragement. You nodded as you stepped towards the Devils captain “this is for all the shit you have put me through the last few months.” You had to raise your finger to signal that you weren’t done talking to him “this is goodbye Nico.” You explained as you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

Your tongue darted across your lower lip as you stared at him knowing that it was the last time you were going to see him those close for a while “so by the time you sober up I’ll be long gone.” You promised before you left the boy dumbfounded and in silence.

By the time the next morning came you had already made good on your promise.

You were long gone.

[enbypotat53]

OKAY so I just spent an hour collecting screenshots, time for the analysis!

(AS ALWAYS, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR INANIMATE INSANITY EPISODE 18 UNDER CUT!!!)

So I'll be tackling this like the episode 17 analysis, breaking it up into parts (except probably many, MANY more parts), but I'll start with Inanimate Island! (This won't be chronological, mostly just a by-area thing!)

And by god, do we start off strong. AN ANTHONY KOS SONG RIGHT OUT OF THE GATE?? HOLY SHIT.

Mephone thinking back on everything, his regrets about how he treated the contestants, his fears.. just. Wow. STRONG opening. (Also his little infodump to Mepad whilst they're still asleep/booting up, me too bud. Me too.)

Gotta admit I got choked up as soon as we started, both from built-up emotions whilst waiting, and just.. how powerful this was?? He cares SO damn much about the contestants, and Cobs destroyed EVERYTHING. This was his life, his escape (and we'll get to that later). Jesus, dude.

SPEAKING OF.

FUCK THIS GUY.

Holy SHIT did Joshua Waters do a phenominal job voicing him. I don't know if I've said it before but the II crew did SO good when they recast Cobs. Genuinely I don't think I could've asked for anyone better - you KNOW a VA is great when they can make you feel PHYSICAL RAGE just by saying their lines, y'know? When I first saw the trailer I had to actually take a break because I felt sick to my stomach just HEARING how this fuckass corn cob speaks to Mephone. His frequent infantalisation (both of Mephone, the contestants, the creatorbots, AND the viewers), and his manipulation, just.. eugh. He's probably the most well-written villain I've seen in a WHILE. AND HE'S SO PATHETIC?? He's a disgusting manchild who abuses his creations because it's the only semblance of power he'll get, and IT'S GREAT. I HATE HIM (/POS).

And ngl the self aware "it's good, just don't watch S1" gag made me choke on my lucozade, so thanks AE.

AND HOLY SHIT?? MEPHONE ACTUALLY FINDS HIS VOICE AND REBELS?? I'M SO PROUD OF HIM 😭💙

Again, more of Cobs being an asshole, but bless the Shimmers - they were so damn naïve, I'm glad they were warned and managed to get away, they just wanted their child back, man :(

NOW ONTO THE SCENE THAT MADE ME AUDIBLY SCREAM AND PUNCH MY BEDROOM WALL.

THEY KILLED MY BOY. MY BABY BOY.

Fun fact: I sent this message to a friend 2 hours before the episode dropped

Yeah I'm not okay.

Not gonna lie, I had a feeling it might've gone this way but I was PRAYING it didn't. Fuck, man.. Mepad is one of my absolute favourites for a multitude of reasons - he loves the contestants with all his heart, he'd do ANYTHING to protect them, and even though we could see how angry he was at Mephone in episode 17, he still gave his life to save him (and by extension, everyone else). He's a goddamn hero, but I wish he didn't have to die (and yes, I will be drawing fanart to cope). Glad he had a moment to be a badass though, Mepad is the living equivalent of "when the calm one gets mad, you know shit's about to hit the fan" and I love him for that 💙

ALSO LOOK HOW DISTRAUGHT TACO LOOKS?? MY BABY GIRL NO 😭😭😭

You could tell how much she cared about Mepad, and their friendship was SO important to me. I'll touch on this later but end song hurt my soul, ngl

AND WE OF COURSE HAVE COBS' DEATH.

So 10 image per post limit on the app fucked me over yet again, but I wanted to also briefly talk about Toilet so no popcorn image :(

I honestly think this death was so damn fitting for Cobs. It simultaneously feels dramatic, yet so utterly pathetic. It doesn't take itself too seriously, yet it's so built up and suspenseful - this is the moment we've ALL been waiting for. Seeing this bastard get his comeuppance. And to see his demise be a consequence of his vanity? He believed himself to be above everyone - he placed himself on a golden pedestal, thinking himself to be untouchable; he never would've believed he'd fall for such a simple illusion from "feeble minds", yet he did. He's a washed up old hack, through and through. All that grandeur? Just a façade. And honestly? The popcorn scene was so damn funny. Suitcase just casually offering Mephone a part of his father's cooked corpse had me cackling like a madman, it makes Cobs seem even more pathetic than he already was; reduced to a soft, delicate, utterly flavourless food that (if we're thinking about real-life movie theatres and how much popcorn people leave on the floor) is commonly stepped all over by everyone around. He remains in death how he always was in life.

(As always this'll be part one of the analysis, so strap in, folks! This'll be a long one!)